Anytime, Anyplace, Any Weyr
by Cke1st
Summary: The Lord Holders are marching on Benden Weyr again, with a much more personal set of demands this time. As usual, they have no idea what they're getting into. As usual, F'lar and Lessa will be more than happy to enlighten them. This takes place during the Ninth Pass, shortly after the Oldtimers came forward. The story is rated T for adult themes; the language is all K.


**Anytime, Anyplace, Any Weyr**

_A/N  
The Lord Holders are marching on Benden Weyr again, with an entirely different set of demands this time. As usual, they have no idea what they're getting into. As usual, F'lar and Lessa will be more than happy to enlighten them. This takes place during the Ninth Pass, shortly after the Oldtimers came forward. The story is rated T for adult themes; the language is all K._

**o**

"Anything else to report?" F'lar asked. Could it really have been this easy?

"Nothing else," F'nor replied crisply. "Lord Asgenar's ground crews say we got almost all the Thread that fell, and they've already taken care of the rest. Only three dragons and two riders in our wing got scored, and one of each of those is so minor, they could fly again tomorrow if they had to."

"Fortunately, they won't have to," the Weyrleader said, and allowed himself to relax, just slightly. "Thread isn't due to fall again until four days from now. We can rest for a bit, lick our wounds, and congratulate ourselves on doing it right this time."

"Rest," F'nor said, as though he'd forgotten the meaning of the word. "Yes, a few days of rest will be very much appreciated."

"I didn't say we'd rest the whole time!" F'lar said, a bit more sharply than he'd meant to. "We need more drills on how to cover for missing dragons in our formations, or we'll lose a lot more than three and two next time."

"Understood," his Wingsecond nodded firmly, then permitted himself a half-grin. "Can I worry about that tomorrow?"

"Yes," F'lar nodded after a moment. "We all need a break now and then, or we'll never make it through this Pass. Yes, we'll worry about the training... and everything else... tomorrow." Word spread quickly that the Weyr was on vacation for the rest of the day. Sheets and blankets were hung out to get some fresh air, now that the Weyr bowl would not stink of dragon fire or coughed-up firestone for a while. Riders gathered to play card games and swap stories, while their dragons stretched themselves out for a long, relaxing nap. The men who worked in the Lower Caverns took the opportunity to swim in the lake and play contact sports; the women braided each other's hair and gossiped about the men. The weyrlings turned their flying drills into games, and the Weyrlingmaster temporarily turned a blind eye to their lack of discipline. Only the watchdragon, a handful of cooks who were preparing supper, and a few conscientious riders like F'lar maintained their vigilance. But there wasn't much for them to worry about, beyond the usual stresses of leading a Weyr of dragons and their riders against a mindless, implacable enemy.

It was a messenger dragon from Telgar who brought the news late that afternoon. "Are you aware of the band of armed men and women who ride toward Benden?" he asked.

"No," F'lar blurted out. He hated to have to admit that he'd been unaware of what was going on in his own front yard, so to speak. "We were too busy fighting Thread over Lemos. How close are they, and how many are they?"

"About two days' ride from here, and it looks like several hundred," the green rider said crisply. "They fly the banners of many Holds and several Crafts. I didn't get close enough to get any details. You know how runnerbeasts react when a dragon gets too close. I didn't want to make them panic when we don't know what's going on. It's hard enough to get those Holders to toe the line without scaring their livestock for no reason."

"That was wise," the Weyrleader nodded. "Wait... you said armed men _and women?"_

"That's correct," the rider replied; his tone suggested that he was mildly offended at being questioned. "The group is mostly armed men, but there are definitely a handful of women among them. Whether the women are armed or not, I don't know. I didn't get close enough to see."

"The Holders are trying something new on us," F'lar mused. "We need more information. I'll send some messengers of my own to learn their intentions before they get too close. Thank you for the news. Please stay a few minutes and enjoy some klah and sweetrolls in the Lower Caverns."

"That will be much appreciated," he answered. "We don't necessarily approve of everything that Benden does, but everyone knows that you make a fine pot of klah. Would it be all right if my dragon ate a small wherry while we're here? He missed his usual mealtime because R'mart wanted me to get this news to you quickly. A snack will keep him happy until we get back home."

"Yes, of course," F'lar said, and waved a dismissal to the man. Contributions from the Holders were slightly lower than expected lately, but Benden could certainly spare a small wherry in the name of inter-Weyr cooperation. As the green rider left, F'lar bespoke Mnementh. "Please tell Lessa and F'nor's dragons that I need to see the two of them in the conference room in ten minutes."

_Lessa will be there in five minutes,_ his dragon replied.

It didn't take long to repeat the news that Telgar's rider had brought him. "Do either of you have any idea what the Lord Holders might be upset about?" he asked.

"Well, let's see." Lessa counted on her fingers. "They don't like having to support the Weyrs with their tithes. They don't like having to mount ground crews because the dragons can't get all the falling Thread. They don't like us taking their most promising young men and women away to be candidates for hatchings. They don't like -"

"I mean anything new," F'lar cut her off. "We're in the middle of a Pass, and they know it, so if they're rebelling against the only force that keeps them and their precious fields safe, that means they really have a burr under their saddles this time."

"Not only that," F'nor added, "but they marched on us once before with a list of demands, and we all remember how well _that_ worked out for them! Didn't they learn anything from that lesson we taught them?"

"Evidently not," Lessa replied, "because they're coming back for a second helping."

"We need to find out why," the Weyrleader decided. "Lessa, you and I will fly out and meet them tomorrow morning, peacefully."

"Their runnerbeasts won't think we're being peaceful," the Weyrwoman noted. "One whiff of dragon and they'll all stampede."

"We'll land some distance ahead of them and let them get as close as they're willing to get," F'lar said. "Then we'll walk the rest of the way and find out what's on their minds."

"What if they turn hostile?" F'nor worried.

"With Mnementh and Ramoth watching our every move, I can't see the Lord Holders being willing to try anything unpleasant," Lessa said sweetly. F'lar wondered if she was secretly hoping that the Lord Holders _would_ try something unpleasant, so that her enormous gold dragon could show what she could do when provoked. Fighting Thread with a flamethrower in the Queens' Wing suited Lessa far better than being cooped up in her Weyr with a gravid dragon, which had been her fate until she'd brought the Oldtimers forward, but she still yearned for even more direct action sometimes. He imagined Ramoth making a low, roaring pass over the advancing army and throwing them into panicked chaos, scattering across the countryside in twenty different directions at once. Lessa would definitely enjoy that. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

The next day, F'lar left F'nor in charge of the Weyr, with firm instructions to drill the dragons and riders in how to cover for missing dragons in their formations. He left S'lel's wing out of the drills for now; he wanted them available as a quick-reaction force in case he and Lessa needed reinforcements. He and Lessa mounted their huge dragons and took to the sky. It was almost a joy, even though they had no idea what awaited them on the Benden plain; just flying without the fear of Thread was an unaccustomed pleasure.

_It is a beautiful day to fly,_ Ramoth remarked.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "It's a shame we have to ruin it with business. F'lar, what's our plan?"

"First, we'll overfly them at medium altitude," he began. "We can get a fairly accurate count of them that way, without frightening their beasts, and it will let the Lord Holders know that they aren't taking us by surprise. Then we'll land on the road about five dragonlengths ahead of them, dismount, and see what they do."

"Suppose they ignore us?" she asked.

"I wish them luck with that!" he scoffed. "We'll have two big dragons blocking the road. The Holders would have to take a long detour across open fields to keep their distance from the dragons. And then we'll just fly and land right in front of them again."

"A dragon is a hard thing to ignore," she nodded. "Especially a very large one like you, my love!" She patted Ramoth's flank.

_I will protect you against foolish people_, Ramoth thought. Lessa had no doubts of that! If the Holders tried anything threatening, it might become the high point of her week.

They flicked _between,_ and emerged barely a mile ahead of the army of the Lord Holders. There appeared to be about two hundred of them, all on runnerbeasts, and there were definitely women among them. Those women were unarmed, and rode in a tight group near the front of the formation. Banners from over half of the major Holds were bravely flying from standards held by the leaders, along with a handful of Craft banners. This wasn't like the first time the Holders had marched on Benden. That first time had been a purely military expedition, aimed at severing the bonds between Weyr and Hold, and it had utterly failed when the dragonriders had taken the Holders' ladies hostage against their Lords' good behavior. That had been a powerful lesson in what dragons could do. Surely the Lord Holders hadn't forgotten that lesson already?

They landed some distance ahead of the armed group, slid down their dragons' flanks, took a few steps forward, and stopped. The Holders stopped at almost the same time, unwilling to get any closer. A handful of the leaders broke the standoff after about a minute; they dismounted and walked stiffly toward the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman. F'lar and Lessa strolled easily toward them until they were about twenty feet apart.

"Greetings, worthy Lord Holders!" F'lar called. He noted that the spokesmen of this group included Lords Raid of Benden, Vincet of Nerat, and Sifer of Bitra. Two of them were Lords of the Holds that were guarded by Benden. They were accompanied by two lesser Craftmasters whose shoulder-knots identified them as being from the Beastcraft and Farmcraft.

"Good morning," Raid said without a trace of politeness.

"Please convey our greetings to your ladies," F'lar went on.

"Spare us your phony pleasantries, dragon-rider," Vincet snapped. "We're here to change your ways."

"Oh, really?" Lessa asked in the sweet voice that F'lar had learned to associate with danger. "Which of our ways are you here to change?"

Raid took half a step forward. "We acknowledge the need to support the Weyrs while they protect us during the current crisis," he began, implying that his support might end as soon as the "current crisis" had passed. "We gave permission for you to search our Holds and Halls for likely dragon-rider candidates, even though you usually took away our most promising young men and women. But the treatment that those young men and women receive once they arrive in your Weyr... _that_ is unacceptable to decent, civilized men like us. We are here to do whatever is necessary to make your Weyr conform to decent standards of behavior."

"In case you didn't notice," Vincet said sarcastically, "we have brought our women with us this time. We learned our lesson last time, and we've done away with that little weak spot. Your kidnapping ploy will not succeed against us again."

"We are deadly serious, but we hope it will not come to blows," Sifer added from slightly behind Lord Raid. "We have heard how a dragon is traumatized if its rider is hurt. We don't wish anything bad on the dragons."

"That is very considerate of you," F'lar nodded mockingly. "Precisely what aspect of our treatment of your young people do you find so objectionable? We feed them as well as we can, based on the food that you send us. We clothe them the same way we clothe ourselves. They sleep in the same kind of accommodations we use. They are healthy, they are not overworked, and very few wish to leave when given the chance to do so. What is your complaint, and why is it so severe that you must march on Benden Weyr like an invading army?"

"It is your immoral conduct!" Raid snapped. "We have all heard tale after tale of men and women randomly pairing off and... doing unspeakable things together, and then going their separate ways as though nothing even happened. There are too many such tales for them to be fiction. We Holders and Crafters believe in doing things properly. That means one man commits to one woman for life. Perhaps you have never heard of it; we call it 'marriage.' It is apparent that our tradition is unknown to the two of you personally, since you have shared the same living space for many Turns, yet you have never done the right thing and gotten married. Where the leaders go, the rest are only too happy to follow."

"The immorality in your Weyr is a disgrace to all Pern!" Sifer threw in. "We could ignore you, except that you take our young people and then plunge them into the same midden of sensuality that you yourselves wallow in. Effective today, that is going to stop. Either you reform your morals and agree to live like decent men and women, or all the Holds and Halls will bar their doors against your searchers. Your days of corrupting our youth are over."

F'lar tried to explain why the Weyrs could not follow the traditions that the rest of Pern followed, but Raid held up his hand. "We are not here for your excuses. We are here for action. What is your decision?"

"Do you speak for all the Holds and Halls?" F'lar demanded.

"We speak for the majority," Raid answered. "There are a few, like Lord Asgenar of Lemos, who think that the Holds should not meddle in Weyr business, but they are very much a minority. Most of the Craftmasters are of a similar opinion, but the Halls' numbers are small when compared to the Holders. Pern is against you, F'lar."

"Suppose we refuse to bow the knee to you and your armed force?" Lessa said, with more of an edge to her voice than before. "Are you sure you want to antagonize the Weyrs that keep Thread away from your Holds and your fields?"

"Our complaint is only with you, Benden," Vincet snarled. "All the Weyrs look for young women to pair off with their queens, but yours is the only Weyr that pillages our young men as well. As for antagonizing you, that is an empty threat. You need our tithes to stay alive, and we're sure that you'll keep on fighting Thread whether we cooperate with you or not. We're calling your bluff! We think you'll do your duty like the hidebound fanatics that you are, no matter what."

_Lessa says he has got us there,_ Mnementh thought to him. _She also says he is plumbing new depths of hypocrisy by calling _us_ 'hidebound.'_

Raid added, "But you will never again take our young men and women and encourage them to ignore the right and wrong that we've spent our lives teaching them. You can do this willingly, or we can find a less pleasant way to convince you. Again I ask: what is your decision?"

F'lar stared at the man for the space of three breaths. At last, he spoke. "Before any of us does anything rash, you owe it to yourselves to find out the truth or falsehood of the tales that you've heard. I invite you to enter Benden Weyr, spend a few days there, and see for yourselves if the mass immorality of which you accuse us is fact or fiction."

"It's a trick!" shouted the man with Beastcraft shoulder knots.

"How could we possibly trick you?" Lessa asked, all innocence.

"You'll make us leave our weapons at the entrance," the man shot back. "Then you'll grab us with your dragons and take us right back where we started, without our weapons and our runnerbeasts. You'll sell the weapons to the Smiths, your dragons will eat the runnerbeasts, and we'll be left with nothing!"

"We will do nothing of the kind," F'lar said reasonably. "If you feel better being fully armed and armored inside the Weyr, surrounded by unarmed people who have repeatedly put their lives on the line to protect you, then we will not forbid it."

"They're giving in too easily," Sifer muttered to Raid. "They're stalling for time."

F'lar was beginning to lose patience with these Lord Holders. "If we wanted to cause you problems, Lord Sifer, then we could do it before you draw your next breath, and there is nothing you could do to stop us. Do you remember the last time you Holders rode against Benden? Do you remember your runnerbeasts' reaction to the presence of dragons, up close and personal? All I have to do is make a hand signal, and an entire wing of dragons will appear directly above you. If you're so concerned about your runnerbeasts, then surely you'd want to spare them another dose of that terror? But we are not here to cause you problems; the Weyr is pledged to protect you. We are here to resolve our differences with you, in such a way that they do not arise again."

"The only resolution we'll accept is your return to our righteous and true traditions!" Raid almost shouted.

The Weyrleader thought to Mnementh, "Tell Lessa that these Lord Holders are starting to sound like the Oldtimers." He watched her, and noticed her quickly hide a smile after a moment. Out loud, he said, "Our offer of hospitality stands, Lord Raid. You owe it to yourselves to be certain of the things you accuse us of, before you do anything that cannot be taken back."

"We'll take our young men back," the Beastcrafter snapped, "if you don't do everything that we demand."

"First, verify the facts; then judge," F'lar said in tones that sounded slightly like Masterharper Robinton's. "If the stories you have heard are true, then the evidence should be all around you from the moment you walk into the Weyr. If it turns out that you were mistaken, then we will pretend that this whole misunderstanding never happened. Either way, you'll get more food and drink from us, and more comfortable lodging, than you're likely to get by standing on this road and arguing all day."

Lord Raid considered that and made his decision. "We will accept your offer, F'lar of Benden Weyr. We should reach your gates by early tomorrow morning, and we do _not_ require an escort of any kind. I warn you that we will be on the lookout for any signs of immorality, no matter how well you try to hide them. If we find those signs, then your decision to allow armed men into your midst will not be taken lightly by those who follow you today."

"Exactly what kind of threat is that?" Lessa demanded.

"Anyone who defies tradition in a matter as important as this does not deserve to be a leader," Raid said pompously. "They aren't even fit to associate with decent people! We will see to it that Benden Weyr gets a leader who understands morality and tradition, one way or another."

"I will take your warning," F'lar nodded pleasantly, knowing that no Lord Holder could have the slightest influence over who led the Weyr. "Now, if you will excuse us, we need to make preparations for your arrival tomorrow morning. When you arrive at the main gate, you may ignore the sign that says, 'Bell out of order, please knock.' We'll be expecting you."

"No tricks, Benden!" Vincet called as they turned and walked back to their dragons.

As they approached Mnementh and Ramoth, Lessa stopped. "Are they seriously trying to overthrow the Weyr's leadership?"

"They think they are," was F'lar's enigmatic reply.

Lessa went on. "Surely some of those Holders must know what a dragon's mating flight does to the people nearby! What's gotten into them?"

"If I had to guess," F'lar said thoughtfully, "I'd say they resent all the demands that the Oldtimers are putting on the Holds and Halls now. They're trying to show the Weyrs who's the boss, and they picked Benden because they think we're the least likely to retaliate against them. If they can score points against us, that will embolden them to make demands of the other Weyrs as well."

_"Are_ we going to retaliate against them?" she asked.

"I have something in mind," he smiled, "but I wouldn't call it retaliation."

"Well, _out_ with it!" she burst out, irritated. How could he play games at a time like this?

"I think it's time the Lord Holders got another demonstration of what dragons can do," F'lar said casually. "But we can't take away their women this time, so we'll have to make it more personal. Tell me: are any of our greens due to rise and mate soon?"

Lessa had to stop and think; the question was so unexpected. "Well, there's L'mor's Eroth," she said. "She's not ready, but she's getting close. I ordered L'mor to stay away from his girl friend until further notice. I didn't want the two of them to push Eroth over the edge until we were done fighting Thread at Lemos."

"Good," F'lar smiled as he climbed onto Mnementh's back. "While you're helping to organize a welcome for our guests, could you encourage L'mor and his girl friend to get back together? Perhaps early tomorrow morning?"

Lessa's laughter was genuine, and at the same time malicious, as she realized what F'lar was about to do.

**o**

The men of the Holds and Halls looked around nervously as they rode out of the tunnel and into the Weyr itself. Lord Raid had expected to see dragons all over the bowl, messily devouring animals and frightening the runnerbeasts, while lusty men chased half-dressed women to and fro with lascivious intent. They did see plenty of dragons, but nearly all of them were in cave entrances far above them, watching them lazily or just sleeping. There was a small group of blues, browns, and one green near the other end of the bowl, but they seemed intent on each other. The runnerbeasts shifted and whinnied, but did not panic.

"Honestly, I expected a more hostile response from them," Raid admitted to Sifer.

"These Weyrfolk don't understand the use of force," Vincet cut in snidely.

"I'm glad about that," said Lady Belia, Raid's gray-haired wife of thirty-seven years. "I came on this trip to avoid being snatched away by dragons again, not to watch a bloody battle that no one really wants."

"But where _is_ everybody?" Sifer asked. That was when Raid realized that there were no people anywhere to be seen, lusty or otherwise.

"Is it a trap?" Vincet's wife asked.

Suddenly, the green dragon burst into flight with a trumpeting cry, closely followed by the blues and browns. The horses stopped in their tracks at the sound and refused to go any further. "Dismount!" Raid ordered, and slid to the ground. He held his quivering mount still, looking suspiciously all around, but no attack developed. The dragons flew high and were quickly out of sight. The Weyr was suspiciously still and silent again.

"F'lar!" Lord Raid shouted. "We have arrived! Where are you? What kind of trickery is this?"

"It makes me nervous," Belia said quietly. "There should be hundreds of people here."

"Dragon-riders! Show yourselves!" Sifer bellowed. His voice echoed around the Weyr bowl.

"Look over there!" the Masterfarmer called. In several of the caves at ground level, they could now see crowds of people. They were almost all women. What could that mean?

A moment later, Raid felt something... something he had not felt for years. Without thinking, he moved toward Belia, who seemed to be headed in his direction as well, looking surprised and distressed. He reached out a hand to comfort her, but the moment he touched her, he ceased thinking about comfort. He looked around for any kind of place where they might find some privacy together; there was almost nothing. The best they could do was run awkwardly toward a small shack that might be a guardhouse, about a hundred yards away. They burst in, and found Lord Vincet and his wife already there. They were clearly not expecting visitors.

"Lord Raid!" Vincet burst out, stepping in front of his partially-clad wife. "If you don't mind..."

"Get out!" Raid ordered. "Both of you!"

"We were here first," Vincet protested.

"I outrank you!" Raid countered. "Now get out, and be quick about it!" Vincet and his wife put their outer clothing back on and crept out of the guardhouse, hoping not to be seen. Raid and Belia quickly stepped inside, shut the door, and shuttered the one window.

All over the bowl, similar scenes were playing out. The Lords all turned to their wives, except for the few who were unmarried or widowed, and scattered behind any bush or rock they could find. Among the soldiers, the men who had a latent or secret preference for other men found that preference growing to sudden, unstoppable fruition. The others made a mad dash for the women in the lower caves, shedding their arms and armor as they went. Those women were certainly willing to meet the men halfway; they were just as much under the effects of Eroth's flight as everyone else in the Weyr. Some of them looked a bit worn around the edges by the time the dragon-induced wave of passion finally crested and receded. No army was ever disarmed and thrown into disarray so quickly... and no army ever enjoyed defeat so much.

About an hour later, F'lar and Lessa rode their dragons down to ground level and dismounted. They looked very pleased with each other. The ground around them was littered with clothing, armor, and weapons that had been discarded in their owners' rush to obey their passions. The two of them smiled at each other, then looked around for the leaders of the army they had just routed without striking a single blow. They found Lord Raid outside the guardhouse, trying to finish getting dressed even as he angrily ordered the men nearest him to do the same. Lady Belia was halfway out of the guardhouse; she was struggling with a colorful woven stole that would not hang evenly from her shoulders.

"Ah, Lord Raid! Lady Belia!" F'lar called, as though nothing unusual had happened. "Welcome to Benden Weyr! I trust that you have found our official greeting to be satisfactory?"

"What... what have you done to us?" the older man stammered as he fumbled with a shirt button.

"What you just experienced," Lessa explained lightly, "is something that the dragons do on a routine basis. Perhaps you have never heard of it; we call it 'the mating urge.' There is no way to ignore it or resist it, and that is the _only_ reason why the Weyrs don't follow the traditions that the Holds and Halls follow. Most of us pair off and take cover in a private place when we see a mating flight about to happen."

"And you didn't see fit to warn us?" Raid demanded querulously.

Lessa donned her dangerous smile. Her tone was innocent at first, but her words were sharp-edged knives. "If you had _asked_ why your young people don't observe your traditions, then we would have told you and you would have known what to expect. But instead, you marched against us like another Fax, armed to the teeth, making demands and giving orders, thinking you already knew all the answers when you didn't even know the questions... and you have the effrontery to accuse _us_ of doing something wrong to _you?"_

"That was not something that decent people do to each other!" Raid protested.

"It was something that _everyone_ does from time to time when they're around dragons," F'lar cut in, "and there is nothing that you, or I, or anyone else can do about it. You can try to impose your standards on us, but those attempts will fail, as I'm sure you just noticed. Now, Lord Raid, if you please, I'd like to discuss the consequences of your actions."

_"My_ actions? My actions are _not_ a topic for public discussion!" His wife turned scarlet and looked at the ground as she patted her hair back into place.

"Then perhaps we need to refresh your memory," F'lar continued. "Was it so long ago that you said something like, 'Anyone who defies tradition in a matter as important as this does not deserve to be a leader. They aren't even fit to associate with decent people!' Well, you, Lord Raid, were just caught using a Benden Weyr guardhouse for personal purposes... _extremely_ personal purposes, and every one of your soldiers has broken your 'decent traditions' in full public view. What should we do with them? What should we do with you? Have you disqualified yourself from your position of leadership?"

"This is an outrage!" the old Lord thundered.

"Yes, I agree, it is," Lessa countered. "We invited you and your men into our home and offered you hospitality. You repaid us by taking advantage of our women in shameful, immoral, non-traditional ways. We would be fully justified in sending you all home without your weapons or your runnerbeasts, as your Beastcraft friend suggested -"

"Out of the question!" Raid sputtered.

"But, as I said on the road, we aren't here to create a problem," F'lar finished. "We just want the freedom to continue recruiting the best young men and women to ride our dragons and defend Pern against Thread, and to live in ways that make sense when we're surrounded by dragons."

"And if we deny you that freedom, in the name of propriety?" Raid threatened.

"If you are going to claim that you're still righteously standing on tradition," Lessa said in that sweet, dangerous tone of hers, "then you would have no objections if we told all the other Holders and Crafters about what you and your men just did here, would you? Because that is exactly what is going to happen! We will name names and we will provide details. Our Weyr Harper is already hard at work; he says he has two ideas for songs about what just happened here, and both songs promise to be very popular, from Benden all the way to Southern Boll!"

"You wouldn't dare," Raid whispered, but there was fear in his eyes.

"We _would_ dare," F'lar shot back. "We _have_ to! The autonomy of the Weyrs is too important to allow the Lord Holders to dictate terms to us. The last time you marched on us, we tried a little temporary kidnapping, to help you understand the error of your position. We can't do that again, so this time, we'll try blackmail instead."

"Have you no conscience?" Raid begged.

"Neither of our tactics is as bad as your armed threats to overthrow our leadership_,_ so _our_ consciences are clear. Besides, we didn't do anything bad to you this time. At least, I don't hear any of your men complaining!" Lessa nearly snorked at that. F'lar went on, "The only question is, are you going to keep your word and disqualify yourself as a Lord Holder? Or are you going to retract your threat about deposing leaders who don't follow the traditions that work everywhere except here?"

Raid glared at them. Mentally, he was furious beyond words; physically, he hadn't been so relaxed in years, which made it hard for him to stay angry. He looked around for the other Lord Holders to support him, but they were slower to return to the public eye than he had been.

A disheveled, somewhat red-faced Lady Belia settled the question for him. "Perhaps we've misjudged them, Raid. Let's sample the better parts of their hospitality, ask some more questions, and _then_ make a decision."

"Misjudged them?!" Raid burst out, then stopped himself. His wife might not understand all the issues, but he was unwilling to contradict her in public. "Very well. F'lar, we will see if your hospitality is suitable for Lord Holders."

"I'm sure you will have no complaints, Lord Raid," Lessa smiled. "You and the other Lord Holders will dine with the Weyr leaders in our main hall, along with the senior Craftsmen who accompanied you. The food we eat may look familiar, seeing how most of it came from your Hold, so if there is any deficiency, perhaps your next tithe could address that. Your men will eat well enough in the Lower Caverns... which is where most of them already are, so they won't have to go far."

"Uhh... about that," Raid stammered. "Is there any chance that, uhh... there will be a repeat of...?"

"Not today, Lord Raid, not today," F'lar reassured him. "Now, may I offer you and Lady Belia a ride to the Weyr's main hall on a bronze dragon, as befits your status?"

Belia nodded with a small smile. "You seem to have a knack for making us offers that we can't refuse."

**o**

The Holders and Craftsmen enjoyed Benden Weyr's hospitality until the next day, held a quiet meeting among themselves, and decided that the Weyrs could continue to work out their social arrangements as they thought best, without interference from Hold or Hall. Benden's Harper reluctantly destroyed the songs he was writing ("What a waste of good lyrics," he lamented). Lessa dropped a quiet hint with Lady Belia, suggesting that an extra-large tithe next time would go a long way toward reimbursing the Weyr for feeding two hundred Hold men on short notice, and Belia nodded. The men sorted through their hastily-discarded military gear, found what was theirs, and the troupe left the way they entered, still vigilant, but quite a bit more relaxed. Their return to their various Holds and Halls was uneventful, except for the fact that none of them would ever talk about their expedition to Benden Weyr.

About a month later, a tithe train arrived from Benden Hold. It was nearly twice the size of their recent offerings; Lessa and Manora were kept busy for days, overseeing the sorting and storing of the foodstuffs and supplies. While all this was going on, the head rider of the train presented Lessa with a message, wrapped up in leather with the Lord of Benden's wax seal holding it shut. "This is a personal message," the rider informed her. "I was instructed to deliver it to you and no one else."

She waited until the last of the wagons was gone, then retired to her weyr. F'lar watched as she opened it and read it. "What does Lord Raid want from us now?" he wondered. Lessa's answer was a burst of sincere laughter.

"Lord Raid didn't send this, F'lar. It's from Lady Belia! She's asking, in a very roundabout way, if, the next time one of our greens rises, could we arrange for the dragons to overfly Benden Hold?"

F'lar smiled. "Oh, ho! So our dragons made a man out of Lord Raid, did they? Does she understand what a dragon's mating flight will do to all the other people in her Hold?"

"I get the impression that she does understand," Lessa said, her eyes twinkling, "and she's willing both to accept those consequences, and to shield us from Raid if he gets angry about it."

"Very well, then!" F'lar nodded. "I think it can be arranged. But we won't insult the Lady with a green. I think Ramoth is due to rise in about two months. You can persuade her to overfly Benden Hold just before Mnementh catches her, can't you? Please inform Lady Belia that making those arrangements will be our pleasure."

_I think it will be Lady Belia's pleasure,_ Mnementh chimed in. _I like the way she thinks._ F'lar and Lessa both had to laugh at that. After all the stresses and pains of fighting Thread, and dealing with people who didn't understand what that entailed, sometimes laughter was the best medicine.

_The End_

**o**

_A/N_  
_Please don't ask me where I got the idea for this story; it was something that hit me between the eyes as I was re-reading "To Save Two." This is definitely the raciest story I've ever written. Keeping it clean without losing its essence was a challenge._

_I don't think the canon tells us the name of Lord Raid's wife, so I made up a name. Belia is pronounced BEEL-ya. It was not a coincidence that the green rider's name, L'mor, sounds a lot like "l'amour" (French for "love"), or that his green's name, Eroth, sounds like "eros," one of the Greek words for "love."_


End file.
